AKay

Hi! My name is Arlee! This is me!

I'm 19 years old, and I've been on this platform for a long time BUT without my face attached. My original blog is @p0gue420 where I focused on “x reader” insertions. I'm older now, working toward being a true author and putting out a future book, alongside my future career as a nicu nurse.

I want to use this platform to create new mutuals amongst other authors, whether you do “x reader” or your original OC. Follow me and I'll follow back and check out your work!

Moonlit~ The Pilot

“Ten years later, the island still smells like home, and Asa still feels like the one I never meant to leave behind.”

Summary: She swore leaving the island,and him,was only temporary. A decade later, one weekend back might wreck every plan she’s made since.

Word count: 919

Writers note: The Fluff and slow burn you’ve been looking for on tumblr ;)

I notice him immediately; leaning comfortably against the side of the bait shop like he belongs to the island more than the shop itself. My chest does this ridiculously familiar skip. He’s broader now, taller, not the little boy that I left behind; Not on purpose, never on purpose. Ten years ago, sticky with melted popsicles stuck to our hands, we made a pact: if one of us ever left, the other would follow. I broke it first.

Soft cries in the night

remind me of why I rise every morning for my day.

I stumble tiredly to your side

unable to cradle you in my arms.

Chords tangle at the end of your feet,

the tickle keeping you awake.

I whisper soft prayers in your ear

to soothe you.

I sing you lullabies through the night

to ease your mind.

But not the end,

you don’t like the end.

Like your mommy,

you must not enjoy the ending of something good,

so I repeat the verses to keep the song going.

I don’t mind singing the same words

over and over.

At least I have my babygirl.

⸻

Tears prick my eyes

as I stare at your little features.

Every insecurity I’ve ever thought

written in the beauty of your face,

forcing me to love those features on myself.

You built my faith brick by brick,

and pieced my individuality together one by one,

creating who I am.

I’m forced to find joy in the worst days

because at least I have my babygirl.

⸻

I clean your lips,

your eyes,

your ears.

You have my lips.

Small and frail,

they quiver when you cry—

it’s beautiful.

You’re half of me

and half of whom I love,

creating the perfect balance

in such a small

but ethereal soul.

I spend my days making sure you’re fighting.

But not too much,

because you need rest.

We stay up in the night,

and I talk to you for hours.

I know you don’t know what I’m saying.

But you babble like you do,

and it’s comforting.

I prayed for you.

For a friend.

For comfort.

For joy.

For peace.

What I’ve longed for my entire life

I finally got right in front of me.

But I can’t hold you.

You’re still surrounded by the chords.

The beeps of your machines

the only thing keeping my heart steady through the night—

to know you’re alive,

to know you’re okay.

Every passing thought followed by

“at least I have my babygirl.”

No matter what happened,

I knew as long as I had you,

I’d be okay.

“At least I have my babygirl,”

I repeat under my breath,

soothing myself to sleep

to the sounds of your suckling

and tiny breaths.

⸻

20 inches.

That’s how long your casket is.

Everyone stirs around me

to make sure I’m okay,

because I haven’t cried yet.

How can I.

This isn’t real, right.

I feel heavy,

but my heart and mind can’t wrap around

what’s truly happened.

I’m going to wake up,

and I’m going to clean your eyes

while I pray with you again in the morning wake.

Right.

I chose your burial away from my town.

I want you to be at peace,

to truly rest.

It’s beautiful.

And it’s a garden.

I don’t want people to be able to visit often,

to mess with your rest.

You’ve lived a hard life.

You deserve rest.

You’ll be with other babies

who are also waiting to be with Jesus.

But this isn’t real, right.

I at least have my babygirl, right.

I repeat to myself

as I hug you one last time.

I kiss your sweet, cold, stiff face.

Because that’s what it is—stiff.

Hard.

Lifeless.

I’ve always been scared of dead bodies,

but I can’t seem to break away from touching you.

Holding you.

Kissing your cheeks.

Now purple cheeks as I hold you.

I swaddle you just how you like

one last time.

Tight.

Comforted.

But no matter how tight,

you’re still cold.

Lifeless.

⸻

I wish I could hear your cries

one last time.

I wish to be woken up

by the blaring of your machines,

alerting me your breathing is better

and your lungs are stronger.

I hold guilt now.

Guilt in how I should’ve stayed up past bedtime

to read to you more.

I should’ve known.

I begged them to check your lungs.

I should’ve pushed harder,

should’ve demanded answers sooner.

But it was already too late.

And now I have to live with this guilt,

with you only as a distant memory.

I’m beginning to numb

to the sight of your face.

I’ve watched so many videos

and scrolled through every photo I own of you,

hoping and praying I don’t forget you.

That I don’t forget your crooked toes

and long feet.

That I don’t forget

how much you made me love myself

through every challenging day.

⸻

I wake up now empty.

Like my soul disappeared with you.

Like the only reason I was made for this earth

was to be with you,

to make you,

to see you.

To see me in you.

To learn to love myself,

because you are a part of me.

I’m left with seen and unseen scars

to remind me of how it all fell apart,

but also to remind me you were real.

That I didn’t imagine it all,

or that it wasn’t a dream.

I forget to eat,

because I don’t need the nutrients to feed you anymore.

I forget to drink,

because I don’t need to be hydrated and healthy

to be able to play with you when you grow.

⸻

I forget what it means to love,

because is it really love

if it’s not you.

If it’s not the way you looked up at me

with those starstruck eyes.

Like I hung the moon and the stars for you.

Like if you could stand up and jump in my arms,

you would.

The way you’d smile when I’d joke with you

and tease you,

like you could understand I was only playing.

A soulless window within you

is what I am now.

My days clouded by memories of you,

and of how I should’ve fought harder,

prayed harder.

But I know that’s not it.

My mind pushes you back.

It wants me to save my mentality

and thinks the best way is to remove you.

I’m forgetting moments with you

I promised you to cherish.

I’m forgetting promises I made to you.

It hasn’t been that long,

but it feels like a lifetime.

A lifetime of me hating myself.

Hating who I’ve become without you

to remind me of why I became who I once was.

Full of faith and light.

I don’t want to live without you.

But I will.

I’ll deal with the gut-wrenching pain

that passes through me every time you cross my mind.

Because I could never want to forget you.

My mind does.

But I don’t.

And I never will.

I will only live with the hurt

of knowing what could’ve been,

what I thought should’ve been,